


Betting on the Sun

by Shortcake



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 5.3 spoilers, Gen, It's all OCs here boyos and girlos and neitheros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:14:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25927225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shortcake/pseuds/Shortcake
Summary: The Warrior of Light and his brother have returned home for some rest after saving the First and before their next adventure. Their mother, understandably, has a question of minor import.
Kudos: 3





	Betting on the Sun

Yvelont was oblivious to the world bar his needle and thread.

He hadn’t had plans to make anything that day, only intending to relish the familiarity of his workshop after so long trapped so far away with no sure way to return. He could vaguely hear his daughter laughing elsewhere in the house, and the sound of more than one woman – only one of whom was his wife – but he was far too enraptured by his impromptu project to consciously register any details. It was a fluke, really, he’d found some leftover cloth that was just the _perfect_ shade of green, and next thing he knew he was drawing up the pattern and cutting out the pieces to make a small plush amaro.

“Yvelont?”

He continued working, oblivious to his name being called.

“Yvelont.”

His stiches were neat and tidy, yet done with speed – skilled honed over more than fifteen years.

“Yvelont!”

“Huh?”

For the first time in much longer than he realized, he looked up from his little project. His wife, Yloise, was standing in the open doorway, watching him with a bemused smile.

“You have a visitor,” she said warmly, smile only widening as Yvelont bashfully tucked away his work in progress. The words ‘I’m sorry’ went unsaid, but his expression said so well enough as he awkwardly rose from his seat, stretching out the stiffness after being in one spot for so long. He tucked his head down as he shuffled by her in the doorway, but she stopped him and gently guided his face to look at her, craning upwards to give him a gentle kiss.

“I missed you,” he mumbled, still not quite looking at her but at least now facing the right way.

“I know. I’m glad you haven’t changed.”

He spared a quick glance back into his workspace – spools and bolts and bits of scrap lying about in a haphazard way that still made perfect sense to him, even after so long away. Maybe starting a new project really _was_ the best way to celebrate being home.

“Is he alright?!” a voice called out from elsewhere in the house.

“Miss Fauchetemps!?”

“He’s fine!” Yloise called back, ignoring Yvelont’s surprise at the identity of his guest. “He’s just moping about being himself again!”

“Well tell him he can mope here over a cup of tea as he answers my questions!”

“He can hear you himself!”

More to the point, he didn’t need to be told to hurry it up either, already jumping down the stairs as Yloise watched on with a smile.

* * *

Ninne Fauchetemps was sitting in the lounge with a cup of tea in hand, waiting with legs crossed as she slowly sipped at her drink. She was, perhaps, one of the most influential women in Eorzea that nobody knew about, for her influence was not due to fame nor fortune, but simply by being a loving (and very patient) mother to the man who went on to become the Warrior of Light – Romarique Portelaine. She’d often been there for Yvelont, as well, though to his regret he didn’t understand why she’d kept pushing to have him sleep over with his brother until it was too late to really matter. Though that did little to explain why his could-have-been mother was looking to speak with him _now_.

“I hear it’s been quite some time for you,” she said as he sat himself down across the tea table. There was a cup waiting there for him already, and he didn’t even have to ask before she grabbed the teapot and poured him a cup. He nodded to her as he took the drink in hand, looking at it and savoring the smell before taking a sip, quietly contemplating how much he should say,

“It’s hard to describe,” was what he settled on.

“I’ve been through this with Rommy, I think I understand enough.”

“Yeah, and I was there and still don’t understand, really.” He took a deap breath, accidentally catching a calming whiff of the aromatic tea in the process. As he let the breath go, he sunk into his chair, eyes trailing up towards the ceiling.

“But you’re home now. That’s all that really matters in the end.”

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

For a short time, both were content to simply share a quiet moment together, each enjoying their tea. The sounds of their underground town didn’t quite filter through the stone of the walls, leaving them with just their breathing and a sudden burst of laughter from Yloise and Yaelle elsewhere in the house.

“So what did you want from me?” Yvelont asked with little warning, choosing to be the one to break the moment.

“What, I can’t just want to spend some time with my son who I’ve not seen in how long?”

“I’m not your son.”

“You’re close enough.”

Yvelont rolled his head forwards, casting his gaze from the ceiling towards, at last, the woman he was speaking to. “Ninne.”

She smiled. “Alright, I may have _one_ little question about Rommy’s latest… passion.”

Yvelont raised an eyebrow. “He has a new one?”

“He’s locked himself away in his study with a sizeable pile of books on Azeyma.”

“Azeym… ah.”

Yvelont may not have considered himself to be a smart man, often feeling lost amongst the other Scions, but the moment those first two syllables left his mouth he could almost feel the thoughts clicking into place. He shuffled awkwardly on his chair, bringing his feet to the seat and knees to his chest, looking back down from Ninne to focus intently on his tea, fingers drumming on the cup.

“Ah-ha.” Ninne’s smile shifted into something more like a smirk. “So you _do_ know something.”

“And why do you care?” Yvelont huffed. “Go ask Rom, he understands it better than I do.”

“Oh, you know how he is when he gets into something, I’m not going to get a clear answer for days.”

“Is he eating? Drinking? Sleeping?

“Yes.”

“Then wait? It’s not as if you really need to know.”

“Well, no, but…” There was a pause as Ninne stopped to stare intently at Yvelont, waiting to see if he would look up. Alas, his focus showed no sign of leaving the teacup any time soon, and so she continued with a sigh. “People at work have noticed, and now they’re getting antsy that we might _actually_ have to pay out on that joke of a betting pool.”

That was enough to get Yvelont to look back up from his cup. “Betting pool?” he asked. “What sort of betting pool?”

“W-well,” Ninne’s calm confidence faltered as she realized she was about to have to actually _explain_ what nonsense she and her co-workers had gotten into. “Some time back Rommy came back crying to me about reincarnation or some such, worried he might become someone bad. S… so I started giving examples of _good_ people he might have been and, well, one thing lead to another and we ended up with a betting pool at work on which of the Twelve he might actually be.”

Yvelont did not have a response for that. He quietly took another sip of tea as he continued to stare at Ninne.

“Basically what I’m asking, is Lothaire about to have one Hells of a windfall?” With the initial description of what was going on over, the energy returned to Ninne’s voice. She sat up in her chair, leaning forwards, meeting Yvelont’s eyes with intensity. “Because he was the only one who guessed Azeyma and I don’t think he was even taking it all that seriously.”

Yvelont blinked.

“Rommy put his money on Rhalgr, if you were curious. A few people followed because if anyone knew surely it would be _him_ , but most of the bets went on Oschon or Byregot, though several said the two of you could be Nald’thal. Althyk and Thaliak got some bets too.”

Yvelont’s drumming on the cup stopped as Ninne listed out the members of the Twelve the protectors of their home apparently thought Romarique might have been, sticking out one finger for each name instead. “That’s half the Twelve.”

“Well, nobody really seriously expected him to have been a woman,” Ninne said.

“He wasn’t.”

“So he wasn’t Azeyma?”

“He was some bloke with the title of Azem and some association with the sun.” Yvelont found himself thinking a moment too late that maybe he _shouldn’t_ be blurting out ancient secrets for the sake of his almost-mother’s workplace betting pool, but by that point it had already been said. “Apparently exactly the kind of person you might expect Rom to have been in a past life, but I don’t really know if that counts as being Azeyma.”

Ninne fell silent, a contemplative look on her face. For a moment, both were content to quietly enjoy their tea, as much as either were in the mood to enjoy anything. “I suppose that may be what’s with his sudden bout of study,” she eventually said.

“Probably.”

“Sorry if I dug up any unpleasant memories.”

“No, that’s not it,” Yvelont sighed. “I just… a _betting pool_?”

“It was just a silly thing we did to help him feel better, none of us were really taking it all that seriously.”

“We sure do get up to some unbelievable stuff, huh.”

“Do you wish it otherwise?”

Yvelont closed his eyes and smiled. “Nah, I’m in this to the end.”

There had never been a doubt of that.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you get a silly idea and your brain refuses to let it go.


End file.
